


Phone Call

by kiyala



Series: Toxic [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friends, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, M/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras calls Combeferre, because that's just what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during the last scene of [Waking](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1011142), after Grantaire and Valjean go into the office.

The moment the door to Valjean's office is shut, Enjolras digs his phone out of his pocket. Combeferre's various numbers are at the top of his list of contacts and Enjolras taps his thumb against the number for the bookstore. He's familiar with all the people who work with Combeferre and the kind old manager recognises Enjolras' voice immediately.

"You're after Combeferre, then?" Enjolras can hear the smile in his voice. "Won't be long."

"Enjolras?" Combeferre sounds concerned. "What's wrong?"

Enjolras and Combeferre have an agreement; if Enjolras can feel his temper getting out of control and his usual strategies to calm down aren't working, he calls Combeferre. If he loses his temper, he calls Combeferre. If he needs Combeferre at all, he calls, and Combeferre immediately answers. Enjolras hates the fact that he puts Combeferre in this position, hates the fact that the worry in his voice is completely justified.

"I fucked up," Enjolras says without preamble. "I—Valjean was _furious_ with me. I could see it in his eyes. I…I think I did a lot of damage, Combeferre, I don't know what to do."

"Enjolras." Combeferre's voice is calm and grounding. "Tell me what happened. From the beginning."

Enjolras takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. His gaze flicks to Cosette, who is staring at her computer screen and doing her very best to look busy. He doesn't have the patience to move out of her earshot. "It's um. Grantaire. You know, the cute-but-sad guy in the waiting room?"

"Yeah, I remember you telling me about him."

"He talked to me today."

"That's—good, isn't it?" Combeferre is bracing himself for the rest, and Enjolras can tell.

"It was, for about a minute. He asked me what I was writing and I told him about my speech and about our next rally…"

"Oh no," Combeferre mutters.

"He asked me if I thought I could change anything. He didn't believe I could make any meaningful changes with a speech and—god, Combeferre. It was a small disagreement and I can see that _now_ but I was so disappointed that we were disagreeing so soon into our first conversation and then I was angry at myself, but I took that anger out on _him_. You—you should have seen his face, 'Ferre."

"You said yourself that he's not a happy person. He's seeing Valjean for a reason. Then when he tried to have a conversation, you ended up yelling at him. Am I correct so far?"

Enjolras flinches. Only Combeferre would ever get away with putting things so bluntly. "Yes."

"You agree that you lost your temper?"

" _Yes_ , 'Ferre." Cosette glances in his direction and Enjolras realises that he's raising his voice. He exhales noisily and forces himself to speak softly. "I admitted that myself."

"So," Combeferre continues, "what do people do when they lose their temper?"

"Apologise," Enjolras answers. He glances at the door to Valjean's office. "I shouldn't interrupt their session—"

" _No_ , you shouldn't. This is what you're going to do instead. You're going to pretend that I'm Grantaire and tell me what you'll tell him."

"You're making me rehearse," Enjolras says disbelievingly. This time he gets up and walks over to the corner of the waiting room, as far as he can get from Cosette even though he knows it doesn't make a difference. At least he can stand with his back to her and pretend she's not there. "Don't you have work to get back to?"

"I'm stocking shelves," Combeferre replies. "I've got the time. Go ahead."

"I'm sorry," Enjolras says, feeling stupid. "I hurt your feelings and that wasn't my intention at all. I lost my temper. That happens when I'm provoked—"

"Try again," Combeferre suggests gently.

"I'm sorry," Enjolras says again. "It was my fault and I shouldn't have yelled."

"And?" Combeferre prompts.

"And… I didn't want to hurt his feelings," Enjolras adds.

"And?"

"And _what_?" Enjolras frowns. "What else do you want me to say?"

"He finally spoke to you after… what, a month?"

"Month and a half."

"Exactly. You're counting. You don't want this to be your only conversation, do you?"

"No… are you saying I need to invite him to have more conversations?"

"I wouldn't quite put it like that— _ohh_."

"What's wrong?" Enjolras asks immediately. He shouldn't enjoy being the one asking as much as he does.

"Courfeyrac just walked in," Combeferre mutters. "Never mind. I'm keeping you on the line until you get this apology right. You need to make it count."

"I'm hanging up." 

Courfeyrac is a good friend. Enjolras isn't as close to him as he is to Combeferre, but the three of them spend most of their time together. He knows how much Combeferre cares for Courfeyrac, even if Courfeyrac is yet to notice. Enjolras figures that they just need time.

" _Enjolras_ ," Combeferre pleads.

"I apologise to Grantaire and you talk to Courfeyrac. Deal?" He pauses, but it's barely even long enough for Combeferre to take a breath. "Good." 

He hangs up and puts his phone back in his pocket. He sits back down on the couch, avoiding looking in Cosette's direction. He checks the clock on the wall, and he still has most of the hour left.

Plenty of time to come up with a proper apology.


End file.
